His Boy
by GhostInTheBAU
Summary: "Come on, Big Bad," Stiles purred, "Is this really all you got? The best you can do? Hm? Because I thought you were supposed to be something scary." He paused there, wicked lips ghosting along the sensitive skin of Derek's throat. "Hell baby, I thought you were supposed to be a fuckin' Wolf." And that was it. That was the end of Derek's self-control. (pure SMUT within)


_I don't know, my dudes...I just, uh, kinda felt like writing some porn. Very explicit porn.  
_

 _My muse was horny._

 _Is that tmi?_

 _Anyway..._

 ** _Warnings: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, PWP, Porn with Feelings, Anal Sex, Partially Shifted Sex, Dirty Talk, Mates, Fluff, Sleepy Cuddles, Alpha Derek Hale, Possessive Derek, Stiles Stilinski is a Little Shit, but he's also adorable, Top Derek Hale, Bottom Stiles Stilinski_**

 _Stiles Stilinski/Derek Hale_

* * *

 **HIS BOY**

.

Derek leaned back, getting comfortable and letting the headboard take the bulk of his weight as he slowly slid home, nice and easy. He found himself engulfed in that warm, honey smooth scent he loved so much—the sugar sweet aroma of _home_ and _safe,_ of _hope_ and _love,_ of _boy_ and _mate_ —an all encompassing presence holding him as his cock pulsed teasingly against tempting friction, sheathed to the hilt in velvety soft heat.

A shrill, keening whine met his parched lips as Stiles bowed his head low, meeting Derek halfway, entering his mouth from above. The kiss was open and fumbling—all languid tongues, panting breaths and sloppy wet—filled with needy, crooning moans and sharp little kitten nips.

"Oh yeah, right there..." the boy whispered against him, heart rabbit-fast and arousal spicy sweet, "God, you feel amazing right now."

Blunt nails dug crescent wounds into the meat of his shoulders, tiny pinpricks, a constant sting against flushed, sweat-slick skin.

And Derek loved it, reveled in it, couldn't get enough.

He never wanted it to end.

"So, so good...that's what you are, you know?" Stiles continued on, a litany of worship falling from his tongue, "So fuckin' good. God, I love your _cock._ It's a motherfucking thing of beauty. Truly..."

He preened at the praise, relishing in all the sensations hitting him at once, bombarding him, letting himself wallow in the heady mixture of _Stiles_ and _them_ and _sex_ as it all settled heavy in the air—the thick musk of their coupling, their tangled limbs, their searching mouths and grasping hands, surrounding them like a warm, cozy blanket.

A cocoon, protecting them from all the dangers of the outside world.

Home and safe.

Hope and love.

Boy and mate.

 _His_ boy.

 _His_ mate.

The lithe body perched above him vibrated with want, the strong thighs straddling his lap squeezed firm, and then Stiles started to move in earnest, grinding down on him, enveloping him again and again, over and over, up and down—everything all strung out and pulled taut, their motions desperate and needy as lush, constrictive heat slid rhythmically over the long expanse of his weeping cock—stripping him bare and leaving him even more frayed and exposed with every steady pass.

"Need you...Der, please," Stiles gasped, sinking down hard against him, "I need more..."

Derek looked up into Stiles' face, soft and sex-drunk, taking in every single part of him—every minuscule inch of his sweet, fierce, dangerous boy.

Hooded whiskey eyes glittering in the soft light of the room.

Cheeks flushed pink, glowing with sweat and desire.

Mouth lax, open and panting as desperate pleas fell from swollen, bruise-kissed lips.

It was the most stunning thing Derek had ever seen.

His beautiful, strong, terrifying boy—the boy who ran with wolves, who stood up to hunters, who fought against demons...and _won._

The boy who took no shit from anyone—who gave zero fucks when it came to defending his family.

His _magnificent_ boy.

Derek's hands moved across smooth, pale skin—grasping, clinging, gripping—holding on for dear life as he let his fingers trace every little beauty mark, map every constellation of moles and freckles from memory, worship every tiny scar the years had left him with.

"Please," Stiles said again, tears filling his eyes, falling down glistening cheeks as he tried to take Derek in deeper, words trickling out of him unbidden, "It's not enough. Fuck, it's not—please, just, it's _so_ not enough. I gotta have more. _Need_ more from you, Alpha. Harder, faster. Want you to mark me up. Fill me. Consume me. Fuck, please. Please please _please_..."

Now, up until that point Derek had tried his very best to just stay still and let Stiles take the lead, let him have his way. He'd given him free reign over the entire evening thus far, allowing him to set the pace—watching while Stiles undulated and gyrated above him, teased him, rode him, controlled him, did anything he pleased to him. It had been a valiant effort on Derek's part, but once Stiles started _begging_ like that, once he'd started pleading for more, for harder, faster, well...Derek just couldn't help himself. It was a wanton display—all desperate, and needy, and absolutely irresistible, and he could remain docile no longer.

Besides, he had never been able to deny Stiles anything, and they both knew it.

"Hey, shhh," he crooned, giving in and taking over, his tone soft and comforting, "I've got you, baby. Don't you worry. Your Alpha's got you now, and I'm gonna take such good care of you. I'll give you what you need, my good, sweet boy..."

Stiles gave a tiny nod and a whimper, waves of relief cascading over him, emanating from him; and Derek answered the thankful gesture with one small, experimental thrust up into the gorgeous body above him.

They both let out a long, low, _obscene_ moan at the action.

He could feel the head of his dick plunging deeper, reaching farther into Stiles' hot, tight channel; and it left him hungry, ravenous, craving for more. But with that hunger also came the rapid-fire burn of alpha red eyes, the urgent itch of gleaming white fangs, and the tingle slide _snick_ of claws descending. His partial shift brought forth a flood of increased senses in its wake, dousing everything around him in stark relief and perfect clarity.

He could count every single coal black eyelash framing Stiles' bright, honey brown eyes.

He could smell every bead of crystal clear sweat dripping down the long expanse of Stiles' ivory throat.

He could taste every drop of precome, sharp and bitter, as it dribbled down Stiles' jutting shaft, slick with want.

All those minute details set his body alight, firecracker pleasure zip-zinging down his spine and pooling heavy in his groin; and he let his Wolf take over, just a bit. Clawed hands carefully reached back, grabbing supple ass cheeks and jerking Stiles down hard over his cock as he continued to fuck up into that glorious, squelching heat.

Stiles' lube-slick hole greedily welcomed the smooth action, sucking Derek in deep and hugging him close. The boy cried out at the sheer force of the insistent pounding he received, throwing his head back as his nails dug harshly into Derek's shoulders—scrabbling for purchase and holding on tight—riding it all out while Derek directed his body and his movements.

"Is this what you like, Little Red?" he asked, voice rough and ragged, tight in his throat as he gave the boy's ass a quick slap and a firm snap of his hips, "Huh? You like to be controlled? You wanna be used? _Taken?_ Are you my needy little cock slut, baby?"

"Y-Yeah."

"Yeah?" he murmured, meeting Stiles' hazy gaze, pupils blown wide open, "My greedy boy. You gonna be good for me? Gonna take what I give you? _Everything_ I give you?"

"Fuck... _fuck_ , Derek, yeah." He felt Stiles shudder as the words hissed out, the scent of the boy's arousal thick and heady in his sensitive nose, "Yeah, please, I want it. I'll be good, I promise. I'll be so _very_ good for you, Alpha, just _give it to me."_

He smiled at the frantic demand, all feral grin and savage fang, wild with power and lust as he did exactly what was asked of him, taking more and more from Stiles with every thrust. The hot, wet, slip-glide of their bodies moving seamlessly together, rippling in tandem, sparked a molten flow of fire low in his belly—an erotic tickle slowly seeping down to fill his balls, tingling and creeping, tantalizing, pushing him to give more of himself over to the lovely boy above him.

The sinful boy currently shivering and gasping, arching and writhing, moaning and grinding, sinking down to meet every push Derek gave him, surrendering himself over freely and fully as he was split open and impaled.

His boy.

His mate.

He had no idea how long they stayed like that, his cock wet and dripping, straining, sliding smoothly in and out as they clung tightly to one another; but at some point Stiles made a move, a flicker of mischief ablaze in his dark amber eyes as he ducked his head down close to Derek's ear, clever fingers curling wildly through the fine hairs at the nape of his neck.

"Come _on_ , Big Bad," he purred, voice lilting, teasing, taunting, "Is this really all you got? The best you can do? _Everything_ you can give me? Hm?"

Derek went stone-cold rigid at the provocation, his Wolf clawing at him, snapping just below the surface of his skin, itching to be released, longing to show this boy— _his boy—_ exactly where he belonged.

"Because, silly me, _I_ thought you were supposed to be something _scary,"_ Stiles continued, "Something cold and deadly—violent and dreadful and _feared._ I thought you were supposed to be an animal, an apex predator...an alpha." He paused there, wicked lips ghosting along the sensitive skin of Derek's throat, hot breath kissing a much too rapid pulse point. A huff of laughter leapt off his sharp-wit tongue; and a smirk danced shrill and cunning through the flow of his sultry voice. "Hell baby, I thought you were supposed to be a fuckin' _Wolf."_

And that was it.

That was the end of Derek's self-control.

He let out a low, rumbling growl at the blatant challenge, snarling and baring his teeth, releasing his grip on Stiles' ass to instead circle his arms around the boy's narrow waist; then, tightening his hold, he effortlessly flipped their positions until Stiles was laid out on his back across the bed, helpless and small while Derek towered above him— _exactly where he belonged._ Slender legs immediately wrapped around his hips, drawing him in, and the new position gave way to a salacious new angle, a delicious glide that brought him closer and closer to release as he vigorously continued to fuck Stiles into the mattress.

That was all it took—that carnal, animalistic rut—to force Stiles over the edge, to push his pliant body to completion, to rip his climax right out of him and leave him tumbling headlong into waves of erotic bliss; and the sounds he made when he came—god, completely _untouched_ —were downright _pornographic_. Lewd, lascivious little moans and whines escaped his parted lips as thick, hot ropes of come splattered messily across both their stomachs, painting their skin a matching shade of milky white.

Derek could do nothing but watch in awe as the erotic scene unfolded beneath him; and the sight of Stiles coming completely undone on his cock alone was enough to leave him momentarily speechless. Then the muscles around him began to spasm and writhe with Stiles' orgasm, and the bitter-sharp-spiced tang covering their skin helped to egg him on as he continued to plough into Stiles, fucking him mercilessly through all of the quaking, pleasure-filled aftershocks.

The brutal pace made quick work of Derek's resolve, however, and his own orgasm punched out of him like a freight train mere moments later. His ruthless jack-rabbit rhythm stuttered, and with a dizzying pulse, vision blurring, he shot his load deep within Stiles' tight little body, thoroughly coating every inch of his insides with Derek's very essence, scent, seed.

Marking him.

Claiming him.

His lovely boy.

His mate.

They lay there after, breathless and panting, sharing the same musky oxygen as they came down from the euphoric high, their bodies slowly recovering—hearts pounding, sweat-soaked skin cooling, muscles relaxing in increments.

"Come here," Stiles finally murmured, making grabby hands toward Derek and pulling him even farther down on top of him, nose nuzzling into Derek's neck, the hinge of his jaw, the curve of his clavicle as he let out a sleepy, satisfied little sigh, "I need my post-coital cuddles."

"Oh, right, of course you do," he playfully responded, fond and amused, "So very high-maintenance..."

"Hey now," Stiles scoffed, "Don't even front. Post-coital cuddles are a requirement. A _necessi_ _ty._ Besides, you knew _exactly_ what you were getting into the first time you _got all up on this."_ He made a vague, hand-wavy gesture toward the whole entirety of his naked, sweaty, come-soaked person, "So no taksies backsies."

Derek let out a soft chuckle at that, sweet warmth filling his chest, then repositioned them more comfortably on the bed, pulling the covers up around them. He held Stiles close, carding his fingers through damp, sex-mussed hair as the boy snuggled up in the curve of his body.

"I wouldn't dare dream of it," he quietly whispered back, placing a reverent kiss to the crown of Stiles' head, holding him just a little bit tighter, "No taksies backsies."

A calm stillness blanketed the room for several minutes after that, and he was almost asleep when he felt Stiles shift slightly against him, tilting his head up to meet Derek's tired gaze. Honey whiskey eyes sparkled with affection and contentment, and his boy gently broke the silence.

"Love you, Alpha Mine."

Derek's lips quirked up in an easy, lazy smile—all joy and tenderness, hope and home, love and safety—and his Wolf howled.

.

* * *

 _I hope you enjoyed, and thanks for reading!_


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